


To the brim

by RobinWritesChirps



Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Breakfast, Charlotte POV, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Morning After, Multi, OT3, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29904777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinWritesChirps/pseuds/RobinWritesChirps
Summary: Charlotte wakes up first the morning after the first time between her, her husband Tom and his ex girlfriend. Established CharTom turns Charneston without a hitch.Fluffy morning after talk, or lack thereof. Sometimes, the best thing is simply to feel.
Relationships: Becky Barnes/Charlotte, Becky Barnes/Tom Houston, Becky Barnes/Tom Houston/Charlotte, Tom Houston/Charlotte
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	To the brim

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on me shipping the random boring het ship CharTom and shoving the love of my life Becky Barnes into the mix. You're welcome. In this AU, Tom's wife is Charlotte and not Jane and this takes place about 7 years after his breakup with Becky and a few years into his marriage to Charlotte, before there's any kids.

The third time Becky Barnes spent the day at the Houstons after her husband's funeral, she spent the night as well and the bed turned out just about big enough for three. There had been no liquor, no influence except that of their own minds and desires and when Charlotte woke in the morning, she half wondered if she had dreamed it all. She must have, truly, for such a thing was completely preposterous and her marriage to Tom, if loving and dear to her heart, had been nothing if not delightfully predictable in the broad strokes. She knew that he came home exactly on time every day after work, that he woke before her without a fault to brew coffee for two which he served her with a kiss more often than not. She knew that they ate out every single Friday night and made love coming home from it every week as well — romance, like everything else, was a part of Tom's plans, though never strictly limited to them. There was always a taste of surprise in the details, too. The same husband who surprised her with flowers every Sunday from the farmers market, with chocolates every month when she was under the weather, had now surprised the both of them with another woman in their bed and Charlotte would have been remiss to refuse them the pleasure just for the fact of it coming out of nowhere. Tom could do that, too.

But it hadn't come from nowhere anyways, not truly.

She woke in the middle, trapped under Becky's face nuzzled in her neck and her husband's arm around both their waists, the two of them as fast asleep as Charlotte was wide awake. It was, she noted after a mild freakout, rather cozy to be laying here together, though the very thought of enjoying herself had always been scary to her and she dismissed it immediately. Panic began to build up inside as her mind bounced from one worry to the next and before long she was telling herself she should wake up the pair of them, the lost lovers now united once more in slumber and tenderness, and let them know she was walking out of it all. A heartbeat later, she thought she was the luckiest woman in all of Hatchetfield and the idea of leaving the bed any time soon became insufferable. Not long after that still, the two sides of the war within herself were one and the same and she felt too warm and hazy with it. She needed time with just her own self to make sense of it.

As carefully as she could, she extirpated herself from the embrace. As soon as she was gone, Tom and Becky nudged closer to one another in their sleep, now pressed together, and all the more for that, Charlotte desperately needed a change of air away from any other soul, asleep or not. Her bathrobe was folded on the back of a chair and she put it on, hoping to get a grip on herself again. She closed the door carefully behind her and tried to clear her mind in vain.

After burying her husband dead in that dreadful car crash, Becky had confessed to Tom and Charlotte the night of the funeral that she had not been on very good terms with the late Stanley. He had been a terrible husband, she had admitted in concealed terror, terrified to truly show how unbothered she was by his passing, even relieved. Tom had been taken with pity to see his former sweetheart so shaken with the accident he had offered her to come and visit them to lighten her burden, to spend time away from the home where she had known that misery. It had taken Charlotte politely insisting — she hated to know Tom's affection spurned, even by the woman who was often the object of her own jealousies, so evidently Tom still cared for her — for Becky to take on the invite, and a whole world of possibilities had opened up to the three of them.

Becky was lovely to a fault, easy to adore and dote on. She was a little fragile still from the car crash — at 25, it seemed likely she had not imagined herself a widow for many, many years to come — but stronger than either of them and Charlotte and Tom both had been swooning from her visit the moment she had stepped inside their home. She was deeply kind, always finding a good word to encourage and support even when she needed all the support herself. Charlotte who had been determined to like her for Tom's sake was finding that she did not need to pretend at all. Every time Becky smiled at her, she felt something warm that turned burning hot when she uttered her little compliments, when she touched her arm in friendliness, when she talked of her work and passion and became animated with the stories. The moment she had left their home that first night, Charlotte had urged Tom to invite her again, and a second time had turned to a third in less than a month, and the third time was a charm.

Charm was accurate. It had felt like pure magic running through them, mysterious and inexplicable. Charlotte could not for the life of her understand what had taken over them to act in such debauchery, only that they had and that they had wanted it ardently. She would never forget the start of it, that first kiss between herself and Becky right on the couch she now passed by on her way to the kitchen. Could she ever sit on it again without the memories burned into her mind forever of the things they had done there before they had decided to take it to the bedroom after a dragged on first encounter on the cushions, on the floor? Could she ever look at Becky in the eyes again now that she had known the look of her between her legs, that she had repaid it just the same? Tom had been too happy to join and encourage, the poor man, but in just one kiss, their marriage vows of faithfulness were out the window, replaced with lust and want so sharp she was torn in pieces with it.

Except that they weren't broken, those blessed vows, not truly, were they? She loved Tom with all her heart the same today as yesterday, as a month ago before Becky Barnes had barged into their lives somehow. She wanted to spend the rest of her days with him, to love and cherish him till everlasting, and nothing that had happened last night had changed a thing about that. What was infidelity with another woman when her husband had been right there in her arms touching the both of them, looking at them with all the love in the world undivided, spread and shared in perfect unison? How could she think of this as cheating when Tom had craved her just as much as he had the old flame they were both infatuated with now? There had been no betrayal, no lie. That was perhaps the most frightening part of it all. How solid could their marriage have been, to be so easily spliced open to let in a third? Even a third as special as Becky Barnes.

She needed a drink. There was no alcohol in the house at all, of course, not when Tom knew of her weakness and shame and gave her every chance to recover from it. Four years sober now, she found relief in other ways and she poured water in the kettle to brew some tea. The cat woke at the soft whistling sound of it and, unbothered, turned around and fell back to sleep. Charlotte leaned against the counter, trying to collect herself.

" _Fuck_ ," she whispered and winced at her own crudeness.

There was a gasp through the walls. Charlotte heard muffled voices across the apartment in the bedroom and she was giddy and terrified to imagine what it could be the two lovebirds might be telling each other this morning in her absence. From the start, she had known that Tom had left America loving Becky those years ago and had come home to find her married very young and too busy to take him back. A part of him had always belonged to her and it wasn't until Charlotte had met her that she had made peace with that. She understood now. She felt the same. The envy she had felt for years had melted away with one kiss, one night together.

"Good morning," Becky said softly from behind and Charlotte startled. An arm wrapped around her waist and Becky dropped a kiss at her shoulder before letting go entirely. "Charlotte..."

Charlotte slowly turned to face her despite her fears. Becky was as beautiful in the morning as she had been at night, her hair down in a cascade over her shoulders only a tad more tousled now. Her eyes were tender with all the kindness in the world and she was looking at Charlotte with great intent, begging without a word to make things clear between them but too righteous to push the conversation if Charlotte didn't bite the hook. She was wearing Tom's plaid from yesterday and it suited her even better than it had him.

"I've made tea," Charlotte said. "There's sugar in the pantry if that's how you like it. I... I always take coffee in the morning because Tom makes it and I just take it, but... But I thought you liked tea and I wanted to make it for you because... I wanted..."

Becky glanced at the kettle which had only just stopped boiling. Slowly, she plopped teabags in two mugs she filled with hot water and Charlotte felt the warmth of the steam prickling her skin as Becky slid one cup towards her.

"Thank you," they both said at the same time and chuckled awkwardly, looking away from each other.

Becky leaned against the counter with her, their hands close to each other on the stone but not touching. Charlotte remembered in a flash the feel of that hand in hers, how it had felt combing through her hair, how her fingers had... She realized her cheeks were as burning hot as the tea in her mug.

"I've always had the option," Charlotte said, frowning. The tea was yet too hot to drink and she blew off some steam mindlessly. "There's always been tea at home, I just... I never went for it. Tom just made us coffee and I like coffee."

Becky leaned over and gave Charlotte a quick peck on the lips. Charlotte stared down at her mug of tea, blushing crimson, smiling like an idiot. Becky was so nice, wasn't she? She set aside the tea and they looked at each other, more truthful than just a moment ago. They had had such a good night after all. It had been ever so perfect. She kissed Becky and they held each other there, clinging to an embrace they didn't want to see come to an end. Why should one night be enough? Why shouldn't she want more? Tom was always the one telling her she deserved the world. For once, they might be in agreement, for she felt she had the world in her arms in the person of Becky Barnes and she wondered why she should ever let go.

"Tea sounds wonderful," Becky muttered and kissed her and kissed her.

Charlotte heard Tom's footsteps she knew by heart coming down the hall and parted just in time to see him politely avert his eyes. He had put his boxers back on from yesterday, but nothing else and Charlotte saw in Becky the same interest as there had been last night. The thought made her very warm. Her Tom was a sight, that was sure, and for a reason she could not explain, she wanted to share him with her. Perhaps it was even better that way.

"Morning," he said in a voice yet raspy with sleep.

He passed them both on his way to the coffee maker. A kiss against Becky's hair who grinned so happily Charlotte wanted him to do that over and over again, a kiss at Charlotte's cheek as he snaked his arms around her to access the sink behind and gave her a goofy sleepy smile and another kiss at the lips. She and Becky shared a glance as Tom packed coffee grounds into the filter with the measuring spoon — never less than four heaps, never more either. Tom was a man of habits, even through hurricanes of changes aside from. The exact amount of water, the same brewing time, quiet and efficient. She loved how stable he was especially now that her own mind was going to strange and confusing places. The whole world could be turned upside down and still Tom would wake up and make the exact same coffee as the day before, as he would tomorrow.

"I'll make pancakes," he said as the room filled up with the sweet smell of coffee brewing but Charlotte stopped his arm right there.

"No," she said. " _I_ will. Baby, sit down."

He smiled and handed her the pan.

"Sitting down," he said with a nod.

She began to make pancakes from scratch as Tom and Becky sat wordlessly at the breakfast table behind her. Every time she looked, they smiled at her but as neither of them said a thing, Charlotte didn't either. She had never been one to lead, not even into conversation. She was a follower through and through, and Tom and Becky made her want to follow them to the end of the world if need be. She kept that affection simmering within as the pancakes browned one by one. This was a certain type of love, making something delicious to enjoy together. Sometimes, the best thing to do was just to share.

"Here," she said and put down the plate heaped high on the table. "Bon appétit, I'll just do the dishes real quick and..."

"Charlie," Tom said softly, "Breakfast is served. I'll do that later, come with us."

Charlotte sat at the table between them. Becky had placed the mugs on the table and the tea was sweet and just warm enough to drink. Tom piled a few pancakes, syrup and butter on the three plates on the table and, next to hers, Charlotte's coffee cup was ready and steaming.

"Are you okay?" Becky enquired softly.

Charlotte looked at her, then at Tom who was staring with concern, his brow furrowed, his coffee cup hanging mid air before him, not taking a sip. She bit the inside of her cheek. Tom's warm eyes, that kindness he showed her even though she had never felt deserving of it. Becky's encouraging smile, the ever radiating goodness of hers she had thought universal but now felt oh so personal. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes.

"Yeah," she breathed out. "Yeah, I think I'm great."

Looking at Becky, she took a sip of tea. At Tom, some coffee. On her plate, a sweetness of her own making, if only she wanted her fill. Charlotte braced herself and started to feast.

**Author's Note:**

> So do you now ship it at least a little, or? Let me know if you want more from this OT3, you don't need an AO3 account to leave comments!


End file.
